All my life I've declared that Spring is my favorite season. For all the reasons you would expect: new life, greens you can't see except in new leaves, bulbs coming up. I'm not so big on the usual, warm weather reason...because the weather generally gets really warm here, and our Spring is usually not very long. Not long enough.
Today I decided that Fall is my new favorite season. I'm gaining an appreciation every day of the beauty of experience...on a face, in a hairline, in a soul.
So the sweetgum trees I pass every day are dropping their seed pods (very fun to play with - earrings, anyone?)
and just a few of the leaves are starting to turn...eventually will look like this:
Cherished, because we don't get much in the way of Fall color besides these.
It will be in the 70's for the next week, glorious Fall weather. Cool at night. Sunny in the daytime. Eventually, colder weather will come, but it doesn't often stay very cold for very long.
The oaks are dropping leaves faster than we can rake or mow. The squirrels are storing up. Pecans aren't ready yet, but the trees are hanging heavy. There's a fruitfulness to fall that we sometimes forget, in our rush to adore the new growth of Spring.
Sure, Fall is about aging and dying. And there's no new life without aging and dying.
Don't you forget it.